Transitions
by xAnnabethChasex
Summary: College AU. AusHun, USUK, GerIta. When everyone meets in unexpected ways, how will their college lives change?
1. Chapter 1

September 2, 2010 Oxford, England

Elizaveta Hedarvary was not nervous at all. Everyone around her was ridden with anxiety, but she knew exactly what was going on. She was graduating a year early from Oxford with a degree in war strategy. One might think that her parents would be proud of her, but unfortunately, they were not. Eliza's father had died when she was young, and since then, nothing could please her mother. Until she had a degree in something that did not involve war, or anything governmental for that matter, she would not have her mother's approval.

It also wouldn't hurt for Eliza to be married, but she didn't even want to think about that right now.

Everyone running around the main campus was looking for their friend or dorm, but this year Eliza did not have to worry about that. She had convinced her mother to let her rent a flat, since she was saving money on the year that she wouldn't be paying for tuition.

She only had two classes this semester, so she would have more than enough free time. Getting a job could help her pass the time, but she regretted not having friends to do things with. In her past two years of University, she had been so serious about studying and cramming in as many classes as possible, she hadn't had any time to socialize.

Eliza was not a very outgoing person, but lately she had been especially reclusive. She was in such a hurry to graduate, but now she realized what that meant. She would have to go back to Hungary.

The thought of her country brought back thoughts of the time before she left. The day after she had finished school, she had bought a train ticket to France, and from there took a boat to England. Eliza hadn't even been accepted into Oxford yet, but she needed to get away. Her mother was so unhappy with her, and everything that had happened with Gilbert…

She never wanted to see him again.

Eliza tried to forget Gilbert, and whatever had gone on between them. The more she tried to name their strange bond, the harder it was to think of anything else. She continued walking the few blocks between the campus and her flat, though her mind was in the Czech Republic.

Though she nor Gilbert was Czech, the lived there, along with their Austrian friend Roderich. They were all close in age, though Gilbert was a few years older than Eliza, and Roderich was a year younger than her. They all lived on a large estate in the Czech Republic with their mothers, while their fathers worked in the governments of their countries. They wanted their families to live elsewhere because they had plans to change their governments and unite them into a new version of Nazi Germany. Before they could actually do anything to work towards this goal, though not before they could gain a high social status and amount of wealth, somebody found out about their plan. They were evicted from their jobs and convicted as criminals and traitors to their countries. Roderich's father was pardoned, and he moved his family back to Austria. Eliza had not seen him since. Her and Gilbert's fathers' intentions must have been much darker, and before their trials, they were mysteriously killed. Their mothers were close, and so instead of moving back to Russia, Gilbert and his mother moved back to Hungary and lived on a piece of land close to Eliza's mother's. By this time, Elizaveta was fifteen. Even though none of them were children anymore, they still kept the same personalities. Eliza had always been twice as boyish as Roderich, and though her mother tried to stifle this, it never worked. Her and Gilbert often fought each other and bullied Roderich. It was only when they were a little older that Eliza learned to appreciate this softness, for she would sit on the grass under his window and listen to him playing his piano for hours. She would always leave before she thought he would notice, but he always knew that she was there. As they grew into adolescents, they took up a secret interest in each other, only to be abruptly stopped by Roderich's moving away. GIlbert was older, and had already had an interest in Eliza before she was even old enough to realize such things. Out of grief of Roderich's leaving, she fell for it. So for the next three years, she thought that she loved Gilbert. Her mother was thrilled, for he was actually more of a boy than she was. When she turned eighteen and finished school, she applied for the Oxford University and bought a train ticket. Before she left, she told Gilbert that she hated him and told her mother that she had always been too overbearing. Eliza hadn't looked back since.

By the time she recounted all of the events leading up to her running away, she had reached her flat. She had only locked and unlocked her door a few times, though she had already learned some of her neighbors.

The person that lived to the left of her was only slightly interesting. He was small and hardly spoke, but when he did, it was in thickly accented Italian. He was always alone.

The flat to the right of Eliza was vacant. A strange man called Francis lived to the right of that. Eliza swore he was an alcoholic. She walked through the door and locked it behind her, for some reason afraid of her life back in Hungary, and that if she didn't lock the door, it would come and get her.

She had nothing to read or study, which was rare. She knew that she would tomorrow though, so she thought that enjoying the peace and quiet would be fitting now.

Eliza tried to relax, but she couldn't. It was too silent, for the sound of Roderich's piano had been gone for too long now.

Alfred Jones was excited. There weren't many times when he wasn't, but today was special. It was his first day of college. He loved being in England, for he had never left America before. The only difference he had noticed so far was that the weather was far more dreary, and that everyone had those wonderful accents. Alfred hoped that his roommate would have one too.

In his parent's anger, they told him that they would not pay for him to have his own apartment. (He didn't understand why people called them flats here.) He was happy to live in a dorm, because it gave him the opportunity to make new friends.

Even though his parents sent him to Oxford for no other reason than to get rid of him, he was still happy to be here. They had more money than they knew what to do with, and he Alfred was the product of that. Always happy, reckless, and without a care in the world. He had never done well in school, but that didn't keep him from getting into college. With a generous donation and a halfway filled out application, his parents got him into the easiest of all programs, general studies. A few months later he began college in England.

His parents said they sent him away because they were tired of his reckless trouble making, but he knew the truth. They just wanted him off of their hands so that they could continue climbing the social ladder of Charlotte, North Carolina without having an eccentric son to deal with.

Alfred was so excited to be out of North Carolina, and couldn't stop thinking about how he wished his roommate had one of those British accents. He hoped that he was friendly, and liked football, and liked staying out all night…

As he opened the door to his dorm, his hopes were shattered. The boy on the left side of the room sat on his bed in the dark, pecking away at his computer. Alfred turned on the light and smiled at the boy. "Hi, I'm Alfred." He said.

"Arthur," said the boy, "I see you've come from The States."

Alfred was too shocked by Arthur's voice to reply right away. His accent was thick and his voice was deep, despite his size. He was small and had blond hair, just like Alfred's, only lighter and cut shorter.

"Yeah," Alfred said, not noticing just how southern his accent really was until he heard it right after Arthur's, "from North Carolina."

"Liverpool." Arthur said, not looking up from his computer. He hadn't stopped typing.

"Do you ever speak in full sentences?" Alfred shamelessly asked.

"Why, I hope I'm able to, as I do study english." Arthur replied, his typing slowing.

"Why would a perfectly english speaking, English boy take english classes?" Alfred asked, stepping closer. He was entirely fascinated in his new roomate by now.

"I imagine your major is something better then?" Arthur said, slowly starting to close his laptop but not looking up.

"General studies." Alfred said with a shrug, not entirely sure what that meant.

Arthur slammed his computer shut and looked up, startling Alfred.

"Bloody hell, you came all this was for _general studies_? What kind of an idiot are you?"

Alfred was shocked, "I don't know, my parents sent me."

Arthur looked his roommate over. With a quick inspection, he knew what he was. "Rich kid." he said, "I should have known." With that he got up and sat his computer on the desk next to his bed.

Alfred didn't know what to do. "What?" was all that he could say.

"That's the reason you're here," Arthur said, standing in front of him now. "You didn't have to work or try or do anything to get in." He then walked over to a dresser and pulled what looked like a worker's uniform out of a drawer. "I have to go to work now." He said.

"Where do you work?" Alfred said, perking up again.

"In a shop." Arthur replied, eyeing him. "I bet you've never worked a day in your life."

That was true, but Alfred didn't want to admit it. "Sure I have." He mumbled.

Arthur stepped past him to the door. "Goodbye Alfred, I'll be back sometime in the night." With that he was gone. Before he left, Alfred noticed him give a small smile. He pondered its authenticity for a while.

He couldn't tell if Arthur liked him or not. He hoped he did, the only reason he wanted to live in a dorm was so that he could make new friends. Alfred wondered what Arthur had against people with money, though he had never thought about having it before. It was so normal to him, he had forgotten to realize that not everyone had what he did.

All of his friends had lived in the same expensive neighborhood, and went to the same private school. They all had the same amounts of money to get in trouble with. He never thought that people would resent him for this, and he suddenly felt ashamed.

Alfred fell asleep that night in the small bed on the opposite side of the room from Arthur's with so many things on his mind. Most of all, he wanted to make friends with his roommate, the only person he had ever met who was not like his parents.


	2. Chapter 2

September 3, 2010 Oxford, England

Feliciano Vargas always woke up in strange places. On his desk, or under his kitchen table, but never in his bed. He really didn't see the need to rent an expensive flat if he only needed one room.

Today he found himself waking up in the middle of the floor, dangerously close to the wet paint in the canvas he had been working on the night before. Feli forgotten that he had class today, but it wasn't like it mattered if he went anyway. He was taking art classes, but you didn't need any kind of degree to be a starving artist. In fact, he had been one for several years now.

Paint covered his hands, and he was sure it was on his face also. The canvas took up almost the entire room, so all of his supplies were sitting right around him. Open tubes of oil paint and dirty brushes littered the floor, and the smell of mineral spirits was always present.

Feli got up, trying not to step on his paint or canvas. He had started this painting yesterday morning, though it looked like he had only started a few minutes ago. He painted so slowly, but it was only because he wanted to achieve the greatest quality of detail. Instead of going down to campus for the first official day of the semester, he had stayed at home and started a new painting.

He didn't know what his classes were, which was something he should have found out yesterday. Feli simply didn't care, and that was his problem. Upon looking in the mirror, he found that their was a streak of red paint in his hair. He cursed, oil paint was hard to wash out of everything.

In the shower he scrubbed and scrubbed the stain in his hair, hoping it was gone. All of his clothes looked terrible, but again, he did not care. Feli picked out a tee shirt with a stain on the sleeve, this time it was from pasta sauce, not paint, and jeans. He put on a flannel over it to cover the stain. He needed coffee, and had no intentions of going to class today, so he walked in the opposite direction of Oxford's campus. There were nicer coffee shops down this way anyway, and he wanted to go by the art store.

The air outside was cold, and the sky was dark with clouds. Feli had grown used to the almost constant rain and gloom, and it didn't bother him anymore. He was almost always happy, and wanted to stay that way. There were lots of people on the streets, probably lots of freshmen who thought that they had time to walk around town before their first class. Little did they know that the traffic jams on campus were way worse than any that they might encounter on the streets.

When he did go to class, he learned a lot. Feli enjoyed his art history and anthropology classes, he just didn't find it practical or convenient to go every day. He wasn't worried about grades, and only went because his parents agreed to pay for him to go to college for a few years. They were by no means rich, but they loved Feli and didn't mind that his only ambition in life was to be an artist.

As we walked down a street that he didn't know the name of, he came upon a coffee shop he had never seen before. It didn't look new, it actually looked old and somewhat run down. Feli smiled and went in.

Inside, it was dark. There were hardly any people here, and it smelled faintly of stale coffee and whipped cream. When the door closed behind him, a bell on the door rang, waking up the barista. Feli couldn't see him that well until he walked up closer, but when he did, he noticed how tall he was. His hair was blond and slicked straight back, and his eyes were so blue…

"Hello?" He said, blinking at Feli, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll take a-a-a….cappuccino." Feli said, embarrassed. Before the barista could turn around, he grinned quickly at him.

Feli felt strange, so we went to sit at what once was a bar. He watched the barista make his coffee, but he was too nervous to notice that he kept turning and stealing glances at him. He ran his hands through his hair and sound that it was still slightly wet. He felt something strange and sticky in it…

"More paint?" He exclaimed, forgetting the barista or the other few people there.

"Hmm?" The barista said curiously as he walked over and slid the coffee across the bar to Feli.

"Oh, um, I got paint in my hair." Feli said, blushing. The barista mumbled something in German before laughing and walking away.

Feli's face burned as he drank his coffee quickly. As he finished, he remembered that he hadn't payed. He checked both pockets for his wallet, but didn't find it. He was always losing things. He was already embarrassed, and didn't want to make it any worse. He was so worried about _everything_ right now. It was so strange, because he usually didn't care. Feli got paint in his hair all the time, why was he so concerned about it now? Why did he keep looking at the barista? Why did the barista keep looking at him?

He got up to walk back up to the register and tell the barista that he didn't have any money. His hands trembled, and he had to take deep breaths to get enough air. By the time he got there, the blond barista was already there, waiting.

"I ah, forgot my wallet." Feli said, blinking up at him.

"Don't worry about it." The barista said. Feli thought that perhaps he imagined it, but he thought that he winked at him. As Feli turned to walk out and never return, the barista stopped him.

"I'm Ludwig." He said, leaning against the counter and gazing easily at Feli.

"Feli." He said, then turned and practically ran outside.

Roderich was tired of looking. He had spent the entire day looking through crowds for her, but she was never there. Maybe Eliza didn't even go to Oxford, Gilbert could have lied about it. All he had said in reply when Roderich asked him where Eliza lived was: Oxford. But she still loves me.

He hoped that she didn't love Gilbert, and had never known that she ever had. It made sense though. They were so alike, and had always been close. Had Roderich not moved away, he was sure that she would have fallen in love with him. He always saw her outside his window, listening to him play his piano. He would play longer than usual, just for her…

But he hadn't seen her in six years. How much had she changed? What had really happened between her and Gilbert? For all Roderich knew, they could still be dating. As he walked back to his hotel, he began losing hope.

He had heard that today was the first official day of classes at Oxford, and he was sure that Eliza always attended hers. He thought he might see her somewhere close to the campus, but he hadn't. He would have called her, but when she left for England, she but off her phone and practically erased herself from the world. He would have called her, but this was the only way.

Right after his family moved back to Austria, Roderich was deeply depressed. He had lived with Eliza and Gilbert his entire life. It wasn't until he was a little older that he realized how much he missed Eliza. Even though she had been cruel to him with Gilbert when they were very young, she had been kind when she was older.

He wanted to get in touch with her in some other way than this, but could only contact Gilbert, which seemed to be the next best thing.

Roderich was close to the hotel now, but he didn't want to stop looking. He didn't know where to go, so he just turned and started walking in the opposite direction. He thought England was charming, and didn't blame Eliza for coming here. His english wasn't perfect, but he used it when he was a child. Since the three of them all came from different countries, and they were learning english as a second language in school, they used it to communicate. He didn't use it when it was living in Austria, but remembered enough to get by for now.

As he walked past the numerous shops and restaurants, he only came across a few coffee shops. Roderich needed something to keep him awake, for he hadn't slept at all on the plane. He didn't tell his parents where he was going or what he was doing, he only left a note saying that he was safe and that they could call him anytime. They hadn't yet.

Roderich walked into the coffee shop and immediately noticed the darkness. There were a few people sitting around, but they all looked hungover or sleep deprived. The barista looked tired too. He was tall and blond, and even though Roderich had already walked in, kept looking at the door as if he were expecting someone.

He finally realized that there was a customer, and Roderich ordered black coffee. He never really drank coffee, but felt as if he needed to be doing something, anything right now.

When he got it, he sat down at one of the rusty metal tables and noticed a newspaper had been discarded under one of the chairs. He picked it up and began reading. It was from a few days ago, but he really didn't care.

There were articles and pictures about a local fire, predictions about this coming winter's harsh weather, conflict in parliament, and finally, a long piece about the college. It discussed the new classes they were offering this year, an addition to one of the buildings, and a list scholarship recipients. He absentmindedly scanned through the list of names. Roderich didn't know that they even offered this many different scholarships. Some received one for going into the medical field, some did for being disabled, and some did for being international students. As he scanned the names on the latter list, he almost choked on his burned coffee.

Out of all of the names, one stood out to him. It jumped off the page and shook him. It read: Elizaveta Herdarvary.


End file.
